My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark
by sammysmissingshoe
Summary: Sam did things he wasn't proud of during his hunt for Dean. Now Demon Dean knows what Sam did, and plans to make him pay. Based on the preview for season 10 and has spoilers for season 9 finale. Evil/Demon!Dean and Hurt/Tortured!Sam. Flashbacks of my own making will occur.
1. I'm Just Dreaming Of

AN: This is my second Demon!Dean fic. The first one I wrote was way before demon Dean even a thing. If you to see Dean get healed, go check out _It's Where My Demons Hide, _if you just want to see some Evil!Dean and desperatetimes!Sam, this one is for you. My knowledge as to what characters know and do will definitely be wrong, but this is where my muse led me. Story and chapter titles come from a Fall Out Boy song, My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark.

Disclaimer: I have about as much control over the boys as Dean has control over the Mark of Cain…

Too soon?

* * *

_CRACK! _Another layer of wall was smashed away. Sam didn't want to think about what Dean planned on doing with that hammer if he caught up with him. Dean was a demon now, why does he need a hammer?

_Dean was a demon now_ were the key words though. Out of all the nightmarish side effects Sam dreamt up about the Mark of Cain, that was not one of them. Sam almost wondered if Dean being dead is a better alternative. There's no telling what Dean had done the past few months, what kind of things would haunt him if- _when, dammit! _Sam had to keep reminding himself- he goes back to normal.

Although, Sam was not entirely innocent in the matter either. He'd done many things, desperate things without Dean there to talk him out of it. And now Dean- a black eyed, heartless Dean- knows about them. Apparently the grapevine has no trouble spreading its roots in Hell.

_CRASH! _The wall was no longer existent, and a smirk formed on Dean's lips when he made eye contact with Sam.

Sam had seen that look many times in his life. It was Dean's "time to take this mother down" look, but never had Sam been on the receiving end. The expression itself made Sam do something he'd never wanted to do to his brother again.

He ran.

_A few months ago…_

Sam was running. Sam had summoned Crowley in a hopeless attempt to make the bastard bring back his brother. He waited for what seemed like hours for Crowley to show up, but the room remained as empty as the passenger seat of the Impala. Sam had gone back to Dean's room to find Dean's bed in the same state.

Empty.

Sam ran all over the bunker in a frantic hunt for any sign of Dean. It was true that Sam couldn't stand the sight of his brother in the shape he was, broken and bloodied, but he would take that over _gone _any day. Who even could have-

Crowley. That son of a bitch had taken Dean's body, but what the hell for? For weeks, Sam had trapped demons, and torturing their stolen bodies trying to find answers. You can only hear demons tell you to screw yourself so many times before you start to do things you regret.

His hands were constantly stained with the blood of demons and as much as Sam hated, punished, or nearly killed himself for it, the thought finally crept in.

"_All that blood's going to waste, don't you think?" _His mind suggested in an almost seductive tone, that he swore sounded like Ruby's voice.

"_No!" _His conscience screamed at him. _"I swore to Dean I'd never-"_

"_Well Dean's not here anymore, is he? Kinda the whole problem isn't it? Don't you want him back?"_

"_Of course, but-"_

"_Wouldn't Dean do _anything _for you, Sammy?"_

"_Yes, but-"_

"_But you wouldn't do the same for him, is that it?"_

"_No! Of course I'd-"_

"_Then do this." _

The sparkling scarlet liquid taunted him. The blood decorated the floor, his clothes and his hands. He dared to bring them closer to his mouth. How tempting it looked. The desire, craving, want, _need _for it all came rushing back at him, and hit him full force like an explosion. Before he knew it, the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

Part of him wanted to vomit, the other part convinced him that he was doing it for Dean.

"_How could this possibly be for Dean? He would hate me for this. I hate me for this."_

"_But you're so strong now. Nothing can stand in your way. No go carve some answers out of that demon."_

His eyes opened with a fiery ambition, a kind he hadn't felt in years, and a smile played on his lips. The sweet after burn of the blood made his voice rich with determination.

"What did Crowley do with my brother?"

The demon sneered past all of its (beautiful) blood spilling down its face. "He dragged him down to the pit, body and soul. It's a lot more fun that way. You remember that, don't you?"

Sam's mouth turned up in a hateful grin. "You sure?" He raised his hand. The motion was followed by the demon howling in pain. Sam almost relished at the sound. His hands dropped after a few more agonizing seconds for the demon. "Where is my brother?!"

It let out a pained laugh. "Did… Little Sammy have… a power shake this morning?"

Sam's hand jerked with a twist, and the demon screeched again. "Where's Dean?!"

The demon's head lifted to meet Sam's icy gaze. Its smirk alone made Sam want to kill it. The answer it gave actually made him. "Right where he belongs." The last word was cut off when Ruby's knife silenced him forever.

Air panted in and out of his lungs as his chest heaved in rage. The blade was soon cleaned off, but not with a cloth this time. He shouldn't have missed it the way he did, but, oh the power! The voice inside his head was right, this was the best way to save Dean.

Sam was getting his brother back, and not a single damn thing was gonna stop him.

* * *

Pumped full of blood, salt, holy water and Ruby's blade. These were the things that defined Sam's life. Demon tracking was all he did now. Even when they gave him what they knew, he'd let them go, with a blade right through their hearts.

What? Not like he could let them go babbling to Crowley about what he was doing to get information on him and Dean's whereabouts. Sam wasn't scared, he just didn't need Crowley figuring out his little… advantage.

Unfortunately, by being a Winchester, his luck didn't last forever.

He'd lost count of how many demons he'd burned through, and the only word he'd gotten on Dean was that he was still alive. The number of hours it took to get that information, not to mention how loud the demon screamed... It really gave Sam a headache.

The demon in front of him right now wasn't particularly chatty either. Not that Sam expected him to be. He was pretty high up on Crowley ass kisser list. He wouldn't break easily, but boy, he could wail. Whenever it would shout meaningless insults at Sam, he would have a difficult time hearing it past all the blood in its mouth. Sometimes it would spit it at Sam or off to the side. The more it bled, the easier Sam's job got. Sometimes, he wouldn't even have to move to get demons to beg.

"You wanna open your mouth to say something useful, or do you just want to keep screaming?" Sam asked, almost too casually. "Either one works for me, really."

The demon, Sam had learned it was called Alcaeus down in the pit, spit off to the side again. What Sam failed to notice was how each time the demon spat, it was aiming right for the edge of the devil's trap. Slowly it was working away the paint with its own blood.

"You think you're… so tough now… Don't you?" Aclaeus' head went back on a scream at a mere twist of Sam's hand.

Sam grinned. "Kinda, yeah."

Once the pain faded again, the demon laughed mockingly at Sam. With one final spit of blood, there was a gap in the paint. He was free, he just had to wait for the right moment. "You, boy… are nothing. We, our side… we're the strong ones. You're just… taking what we gave you… and you call yourself… strong? Your brother… would be disgusted… Especially once I… tell him." Aclaeus made a face as though he hadn't meant to let that piece of information slip, of course, it was a ploy.

Sam stepped closer, and the demon resisted smiling. It was working. "Where. Is. Dean?!"

Alcaeus ignored the question. "I mean, really, Sammy? You think the… guy's dead… so this is what you do? He'd be so… disappointed in you, even…" He threw in a couple coughs for show. "Even after what he's become."

The hunter's eyes darkened as he took another step. "What, exactly, has he become?"

Now Alcaeus had him. He dropped his head, and then snapped it back up, his black eyes glistening. "One of us."

Sam was thrown across the room in seconds. He watched the bonds holding the demon to the chair snap in an instant. He raised his hand to kill the demon, but it was already on him. Alcaeus grabbed Sam's outstretched arm, and yanked it out of its socket.

After being on top so long, Sam had forgotten about other pains, besides the kinds he felt when there was too long of a gap between his hits of demon blood. The pain of his shoulder being wrenched out of joint was something he had been acquainted with before, but it had come as so much of a shock to him that he shouted in pain and clutched his shoulder.

The pain escalated again as Aclaeus put a foot on the injured limb, and he groaned loudly.

"Wow, Sammy-boy, I knew you were desperate," he increased the pressure with a sharp jerk on Sam's shoulder until there was a definite crack, and Sam screamed in agony. "But demon blood? Did not see that one coming." He lifted his foot from Sam's shoulder, and backed away. "I'm sure Crowley will be so excited to hear that." Alcaeus was able to see Sam's eyes widen in panic right before he smoked out. He had a message for the King.

* * *

AN: I know, I can't believe I made Sam do that either, but in a bunch of interviews Jared says that we will Sam go really far in his hunt for Dean, and this is how my brain took it. This may or may not be it for flashbacks and I'll probably go back to present day. There'll be more Dean in the next chapter. Also, I know a majority of people think that Dean was wielding an axe in the preview, but after I watched it a dozen times I started to think it was a hammer. Guess we'll find out soon! See you guys soon with the next chapter and drop me a review of what you thought. I love hearing from all of you!


	2. Tearing You Apart

AN: Sorry I was a bit slow on the update, busy day yesterday. I usually don't take this long to update. So we're almost back to the present, but I just wanted to add a little more build-up so this is the same day as the whole hammer thing, but just a few hours earlier. I use the dialogue from the preview here, but I know I'm definitely not using it quite right. Oh well. And many thanks to all the followers and favourites!

* * *

Dean couldn't be a demon. There was no way. Then again, that is what happened to Cain… Sam just _had _to be sure.

Summoning his brother via demon ritual was not something Sam had ever planned on doing, or wanted to do. Sam wasn't really one to pray anymore, but oh how he begged with whomever might be up there to not let anything happen. He lit the match, and watched it turn into flames as it fell into the bowl. The reflection of the fire danced in his pleading eyes, as he willed for nothing to happen.

A familiar and annoyed sigh caused Sam's head to whip towards the sound. Dean stood before him, and even though he hadn't changed, everything about him was different; it was _wrong. _Dean's hands glistened red in a way Sam had become accustom to seeing on his own. Also coated in blood, was that damn First Blade that Dean had refused to put down.

That wasn't even the worst of it. Dean's eyes were black. Even though they were the same eyes as any other demon, it made Sam's heart quicken in a panic unlike any he's ever felt before. The voice Sam had been wishing to hear for months made him freeze in place.

"Heya, Sammy." Dean casually waved a bloodied hand. He looked at it almost agitatedly. "As you can see, I was a little busy when you called. Still good to see you again, little brother."

Sam was in too much shock to respond, although his mind was in a whirlwind of disbelief, and another thing he never thought he'd feel towards his brother. Fear. His voice finally managed to crack out one word. "Dean?"

Dean's eyebrow went up in confusion, but there was an element of boredom on his face as well. "Really? That's all you got to say? Don't let the eyes fool you, Sammy, it's all me in here. You on the other hand," Dean flicked his wrist with the slightest grin, as Sam was pinned against the wall. "You have got some explaining to do, tiger."

Sam struggled against the hold that Dean _"Oh, God, it's really Dean doing this to me." _had on him, and fought to hide the horror on his face. "Dean, stop. This isn't-" He was cut off as Dean crudely made a half fist, causing the air to stop in Sam's throat. Sam gasped in an attempt to draw in a breath as he felt his body slowly creep up the wall, until his feet no longer touched the floor.

"Really, Sammy." Dean spat the nickname like a curse. "The whole 'this isn't you' 'you can fight this' speech? I expected better from you." Oxygen once again filled Sam's lungs as Dean released the pressure on his throat, but he stayed locked against the wall. "Especially after what I heard about you." Dean's cocky look turned dark. "Demon blood? Honestly, I thought we were over that. Guess there's just no stopping animals like you."

With pleading eyes, Sam silently begged to reach Dean's humanity. "I hate demons."

A cold expression washed over Dean's face in a way that made Sam shudder. "I got a hell of a lot more running for me than just demon juice."

Sam dropped to the ground, and got a taste of just what this new Dean was capable of. An agony so intense spread over him that he writhed uselessly on the ground, his right arm suffering the most from the fire in his veins as it fought against the sling restraining it. He gasped heavily against the pain, unable to pull in a proper breath.

"Let me tell you something," Dean raised his voice to be heard over Sam's choked off cries. "See, guys like me, we are the natural order. It's the way it was set up." He stopped the onslaught of pain on Sam's body.

"And…" Sam's voice was strained from the torture he had thankfully been released from. "Guys like me, still gotta do what we can." Sam pulled himself up, surprised at how well his limbs were cooperating.

Dean scoffed with an eerie smile. "You see, from where I'm standing, there ain't much difference between what I did, and what you already are."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked, already knowing the answer.

Dean loomed over him with a grin so like, and yet unlike Dean. "I know what you did when you were looking for me. I know how far you went, so let me ask you… Which one of us is really the monster?"

Despite the fear, Sam whipped up a fairly decent comeback. "I'm not the one with black eyes."

Dean rolled said eyes in annoyance. How Sam wished there could be more emotion on his brother's face. "If black eyes are so bad, then how come you enjoy drinking their blood so much? Sorry," Dean's eyes went black for good measure. "Our blood."

Every part of Sam didn't want to do this, but the need to get his brother back had crushed his conscience long ago. In a rush of adrenaline, he raised his unhurt arm and watched Dean fly across the room, the same way he had experienced moments ago. More to himself, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean stood up with a near growl, more pissed than actually injured. "So, that mean we over the foreplay? Fine, I guess I can get to what I came here for." He flicked his wrist, and was astounded when Sam didn't crumple to the ground. "You can't possibly be that strong. I'm a Knight of Hell."

"You're right." Sam stepped closer without any worry. "I'm not that strong, but you are that stupid." His eyes glanced upward to the ceiling above Dean.

"Devil's trap. How original."

"You'll thank me later, Dean." Sam lifted his hand and curled it into a fist, a skill he had taught himself over the course of the past few months. He'd give anything not to have to use it on Dean, but he didn't have many options. His fisted hand twisted, and Dean collapsed to the floor, unconscious. He'd gone through far too many innocent human bodies to learn how to perfect that particular ability. Sam sighed at the disgust he had for himself, and all that he had done.

Sam made his way over to Dean, and his eyes caught sight of the devil's trap. He wondered if he could ever drink enough blood to the point of getting stuck in one himself. Sam let go of the thought and grabbed Dean's arms, and dragged him across the floor.

Dean's weight was something Sam was familiar with carrying, especially when he was completely limp in his arms, but Sam hated how he was the cause of it this time. All of him wanted Dean to open his eyes and tell him everything was gonna be alright. He just wanted to, screw Dean's feelings about chick flick moments, hug his brother. The last time Sam had carried all of Dean's weight was after watching the life leave his eyes. Now Sam was carrying him again, but it barely was his brother.

Eventually, he made it to the dungeon, still set up for holding a demon. Sam hefted Dean into the chair, and noted all of the bruises and scars he hadn't had before.

"_Dean, what have you been doing?" _Not that Sam was one to judge.

Sam pulled out a few coils of rope, and began securing Dean to the chair. The hunter side of him told him to bring out the demonic handcuffs, but the brotherly side of him told him that he had hurt Dean enough already. He bound Dean's wrists and feet to the arms and legs of the chair, along with a few loops around his chest, anchoring him to it. The chair itself sat in the centre of another devil's trap, wooden and stained with the blood of demons past.

Blood, isn't that what is always comes down to? Jess's blood dripping from the ceiling, bringing him back to Dean. His own blood spilling out of him, causing Dean to deal away his soul. Dean's blood pooling around him as hellhounds rip him apart. Ruby's blood leading him down a path of lies and destruction. Sam and Dean's blood binding them to the angels bent on shattering the Earth. Sam's blood being shed every day for centuries in the Pit. Then again to Dean's blood as he dies in front of Sam's eyes again. Back to demon blood as Sam tries to save his brother. It was always about the blood.

A groan forced Sam's daydream, if you could call it that, away as Dean finally began to wake up. Sam watched Dean take in his surroundings and realize exactly what was happening.

"If you wanted to tie me up, you could've just asked." Dean remarked snidely. "The type of girls I've been hanging out with lately have done weirder things."

Sam actually missed Dean's sarcastic and borderline vulgar comments, but this just wasn't the same. "Dean, I know that you probably hate me, probably even more once I fix you, but I swear, I will fix you."

"Oh thank God, my bloodsucking brother is gonna save me."

The fist that Sam swung came out of nowhere. It barely registered he had hit his brother until the pain in his knuckles kicked in. Dean shouted in –Oh, God no- in glee.

"Wow, thanks for the rush, Sammy. Didn't know you actually had the guts for that." He spit the blood off to the side, hitting the trap.

Sam held up a spray paint can. "Don't even think about it."

"I see Alcaeus did leave his mark in more ways than one. He says sorry about the arm, by the way. That probably stung a little, eh, Sammy?"

Another punch, because dammit, Sam just couldn't help himself. "Don't call me that."

Again, Dean spat the blood out of his mouth, and Sam actually flinched towards it. The action didn't go unnoticed by Dean. "Damn, Sammy, you really want it bad, don't you?"

Of course he did, the constant hunger ate away at him every day, but he couldn't show that kind of, _animalistic rage, patheticness, _weakness in front of his brother, even this version of him. The sight of it alone was driving him mad, so he forced himself to leave the room, and ignored Dean's snarky comments.

Dean sat in the darkened room, feeling his new blood leaking out of his mouth. That's when the idea hit him. He started twisting his wrists, feeling the sting of the course rope bite into his hands. More blood began trickling down the seat, and started pooling beneath him. Wearing away the trap with his blood wasn't even his main objective. Sam would take care of that for him.

Not quite enough blood yet. Dean resorted to actually biting into his own skin to speed up the process. The dark ruby liquid finally formed a decent puddle around him, slowly seeping onto different areas of the trap. It still held him, but once he got Sam back in there, he would be free.

Dean let out a piercing scream, a sound he knew Sam wouldn't resist running to.

His thoughts proved correct as Sam burst through the door. "Dean, what's-" His eyes laid on the… blood. _So, much, blood. _He didn't even remember stepping so close, but there, right at his feet was so much, precious, blood.

Dean watched the gleam in Sam's eyes turn from worry to pure bloodlust in a heartbeat. Sam's mouth quivered in anticipation. "Well go on, Sammy, don't you want it?"

Before Sam knew it, he was on his hands and knees lapping up the blood all around him like some kind of dog gnawing on scraps at the dinner table. Every breath he breathed was stained with the taste of iron. He was so caught up in the blood that he wasn't even aware that his actions were wearing away the trap.

"Wow, you really give 'bitch' a whole new meaning." The ropes snapped, and Dean kicked Sam right in the head.

After regaining enough sense, Sam stood up and scurried out of the dungeon. The idea of using his powers was drowned out by all of his thoughts of _"leave, get out, RUN!" _

On Dean's way out on his casual pursuit of Sam, he grabbed a hammer near the garage. The urge to make a _Shining _reference was strong right then, but where was little Sammy to appreciate it? He kicked open the door to the computer room. No Sam.

There was a sudden red light flashing all about the bunker. "Saaaammmyyy! C'mon out! I got plenty more of my blood just waiting for a vampire like you. That is, if you don't mind shedding a little first." He added with an unseen smirk.

The only other time Sam ever heard Dean call him a vampire was right before he had let Lucifer out of the cage. Never had he heard Dean say it in person.

Sam panted against the wall, listening to Dean's condescending voice taunt him as it echoed throughout the entire bunker. "C'mon, Sammy! Let's have a beer. Let's talk about it. I'm tired of playing!"

"_Please don't make me do this, Dean." _Sam gripped Ruby's knife in his trembling left hand, praying that he wouldn't have to use it.

"Let's finish this game!" The voice was so close now. Sam slowly and fearfully peered around the corner, waiting to see Dean creeping closer. A breath of relief left his mouth as Dean was nowhere to be seen, but then he felt the hairs at the back of his neck suddenly stand on end. He turned around, and fast reflexes were the only thing that saved him from being whacked with a hammer, and it embedded itself in the wall. In an instant, the demon killing knife was at Dean's throat. Dean's eyes had gone black without an ounce of humanity in them.

"Do it." Dean challenged as his eyes went back to their original green, but all signs of Dean were vacant from them. "It's all you."

* * *

Yes, I know, I'm an evil little author. Tell me if you guys have any ideas on where you might like this to go, or just leave a little review if you've got the time. I'm pretty sure I know where I'm headed with this, but I love hearing from you!


	3. I'm in the Details

AN: Sorry, I swear I'm usually better on updates than this, but this story just likes to keep getting away from me, which is why this chapter is a little shorter than the other two. And I was actually having a social life for once. Weird right? Despite what happens in this chapter, this is not a death fic… At least not yet…

* * *

How many times had the world rested on Sam's shoulders? Eight, nine? Far more than any normal person could ever dream. From putting the Devil back in the Cage, or stopping Purgatory's rejects, none of those moments would change history any more than this one. A blade at his brother's throat. A flick of the knife, and Dean being a demon would no longer be a problem. One simple little twitch and it was all over. The blade was steady at Dean's throat, while his mind was anything but.

Could he really do it, to his own brother? The brother who always followed his father's orders, but said to hell with them when they threatened his Sammy's life. The brother who refused to fire a gun, even when Sam was possessed by true evil. The brother who stayed with a soulless Sam in hopes of getting back his real brother, the one he would, and did, die for. The brother that tricked him into being possessed by an angel because Dean couldn't live without him. The brother Sam couldn't live without either.

"Dean," Sam pleaded. "Don't make me do this."

A hand suddenly clamped around his throat and shoved him against the wall, but Sam managed to keep his grip on the knife. "Only one of us is getting out of here." Dean explained. "If you want it to be you," Dean further pressed himself against the blade. "You do it. You go right ahead, and kill me. You've almost done it before, what's stopping you now?"

Sam had only seconds before Dean completely crushed his windpipe. Already so little air was passing that he could only choke and sputter. His lips moved in a word he prayed Dean could read. "Please…"

The only response Dean gave was tightening his grip. There wasn't even enough air to gasp now. Sam bucked wildly against him, as his eyes began rolling upwards. His vision started to cloud, as did his judgment. In a desperate attempt to satisfy his lungs, the blade swept across Dean's throat. Dean's eyes went wide with shock, and his hand fell from Sam's neck.

Much needed oxygen finally flooded back, and so did Sam's vision. What he saw before him made him wish it hadn't. Dean's head jerked back, as his face started flashing orange. Sam stared at the knife in a horror of realization at what he had just done. Dean's surprise and pain filled eyes met Sam's once more as he fell to the ground, his blood already beginning to form a puddle around him.

"D-Dean? O-oh, God, no…" Sam's furiously shaking hand ran through his hair, as he fell to his knees beside his unmoving brother. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-… Wh-What have I done?"

His upper body could no longer keep him up, so he collapsed to the floor, his left hand shielding his crying eyes from the pain he had just created. Broken sobs passed his mouth unchecked.

He had gotten Dean back, sure, it wasn't completely Dean, but he could have at least tried to help him, now… Now he was just- dead, again, and it was Sam's fault. Everything he did, the demon blood, it was all for _nothing! _

Sam wiped his eyes, and bit his shaky bottom lip. He reached out to Dean's shoulder to turn Dean's face towards him, when Dean's hand suddenly snaked out, and threw Sam into the wall. Pain sparked all throughout Sam's already injured arm and a short shout worked its way past his throat.

Dean stood up as though it were the simplest thing, but his face was the epitome of rage. "I can't believe you just stabbed me!" He landed a harsh kick to Sam's stomach, and all the air left him again.

Between frantic gasps, Sam asked, "H-how…?"

Another kick, this time to the chest, and Dean smiled darkly at the sound of a rib or two snapping. "I'm a Knight, dumbass." A quick jab to the face. "That little push-pin ain't got nothing on me." He plucked the knife from where it sat on the floor. "You on the other hand…" The blade sliced through Sam's dislocated shoulder like butter, although butter usually didn't scream as loud as Sam did. "I was gonna let you off easy, Sammy. Really, I was." The knife twisted and the pain was so intense that Sam couldn't even hear himself scream. "But now, you've seriously pissed me off."

"Dean," Sam choked off through the pain. "Please…"

The only change in Dean's expression was his eyes going back to pit coloured orbs, as he yanked the blade from Sam's arm. "Hang on, I need to borrow some of your blood." Dean's fingers dug deep into the wound, and Sam cried out pitifully. "You don't mind, do you?"

Tears leaked out of Sam's eyes as Dean continued forcing his fingers in and out of the gash. He panted heavily through clenched teeth, as Dean brought his hand out and began painting a symbol in Sam's blood. It wasn't any symbol Sam had ever seen before.

Confusion was replaced with agony when Dean's fingers found their way back into his shoulder. Sam let out a pained moan, followed by a broken plea. "Pl-please stop, Dean…"

Dean only grinned in response. "Sorry, didn't get quite enough yet." A single digit probed the gaping wound until Sam's back arched at the pain, and he choked on his breath. Dean's smirk widened as he pulled the finger out again. "Think that's enough now."

He finished the sigil on the wall, and stood up proudly. "Warding I picked up from a few new friends of mine. Keeps away the angels. Now, Sammy, I got a question." His hand shot out and grabbed Sam's hair, and yanked him up until their faces were nearly touching. "Where did you put my blade?"

Sam's pain filled eyes hardened the slightest bit. The memory of him stashing the blade before he had rushed back into the dungeon came back to him. As soon as Dean had been restrained, he took the blade and put it… Damn, that was a dumb place. Hopefully dumb enough that Dean wouldn't think to look in there. He took a few more panting breaths before answering. "N-no…"

Dean tightened his hand fisted in Sam's hair, and he watched Sam wince. "'No' what, Sammy?"

"N-not… go-gonna… tell you…"

With his free hand, Dean dug his thumb back into Sam's shoulder and didn't let up until Sam threw his head back on a shout. "I disagree. I think, you are gonna tell me, I'm gonna get back my blade, and then to top it all off, I'm gonna stick it right through your heart."

Past the pain, Sam laughed. "P-pass."

Dean shook his head in mock sadness and mercilessly dropped Sam back on the floor. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy." He temporarily ended Sam's misery with a fast kick to the head that left him unconscious in a second. Dean continued to speak to him anyway. "You always were a stubborn ass, weren't you?"

He grabbed Sam by the sling on his shoulder, and Sam moaned in his unconscious state. Dean dragged Sam along until they had reached the dungeon. His eyes caught sight of all sorts of toys hanging from the walls, untouched, and just begging to be used.

Unlike Sam, Dean had no conscience nagging him to be careful with Sam as he bound him to the chair. He also did not have any patience, so when Sam refused to wake up on his own, he harshly slapped him until his eyes weakly fluttered open. Sam's head started to droop down again, but Dean roughly held his jaw and forced his head back up.

Sam gave him a weak glare, which Dean smiled at. "There you are. Now that you're back with us," Dean held up a pair of rusty pliers. "I've still got a question for you." He chuckled inwardly at the sound of Sam's breath hitching. "Where. Is. My. Blade?"

* * *

Needless to say I really enjoyed writing this chapter. And sorry about the lack of Sam's powers, but they'll come back in the next one. Speaking of the next one, I could go into detail with Dean's "interrogation" or I could just mostly imply it and get back to more plot stuff. Leave a review of what you want and I'll try to go with the majority… Or I might just torture that poor boy either way because my muse apparently likes to go there. See y'all again soon!


	4. With the Devil

So I asked, and the result… Torture details won! Sorry to Cyenthia 30, I know you wanted implied, but a majority of reviewers wanted the dets, so tourtured!Sam fans, I'm looking at you. Just remember, y'all asked for this. Oddly enough I actually really struggled with this chapter, which is odd because torture is usually right up my alley.

* * *

It was hard enough to breathe through the pain already, but Sam knew much worse was about to come. "D-Dean, th'mark… 'ts doing this to you. Y-you gotta let it-" The sentence was cut off with an agonized scream as Dean ripped one of his fingernails from its root.

Dean practically dangled it in front of him, as Sam panted past the burning in his nails… Well, lack thereof. "Now, you ain't getting this back, but you can sure as hell still tell me about the blade."

Sam took several more breaths before choking out his answer. "N-no…" He tensed as the pliers gripped another fingernail.

"Oh, Sammy…" Dean tugged ever so gently on the rusty tool, and Sam clenched his muscles even more at the pull. "I'm in no hurry here. We can really," Another slow tug on the pliers, and Sam couldn't help but whimper. "Take our time. I'll be honest," He gradually continued to yank on the nail, and had to start to yell to be heard over Sam's miserable cries. "This isn't even the best I can do. I've had plenty of practice on my little vacation from you, so you just tell me where the blade is, and it'll be a hell of a lot easier on you."

"D-Dean," Sam breathed out between sobs. "L-look what 's doin' t'you. Y-you got' stop."

"Newsflash, Sammy," Dean paused as he tore the nail from its bed, and listened intently to Sam shout. "That old Dean is dead. Took a blade right through the chest. You remember that, don't you?"

Sam lifted his head to give Dean a look of slight annoyance. What kind of question was that? How could he not remember what he had nightmares about every single night? The number of times he had prayed to take Dean's place. When that did happen in his dreams, he considered them to be a blessing.

"I see the bitchface is still working. Anyway, you should know that being a demon's the only reason this body's still working." Dean lifted his shirt to reveal the scar left behind from Metatron's sword. "Even if you manage to 'fix me', it ain't gonna mean jack squat."

No he- that couldn't be true. Sam had to get Dean back, he _couldn't _be dead. "Y-y're lying…"

"Don't have to." Dean set down the pliers, and gripped the two fingers he had recently worked over, grinning at Sam's panicked look, and the sound of his breath hitching. "I just thought you should know that there's no saving me." He grinded the bones together, and sighed in relief once they finally snapped.

Sam screamed through gritted teeth. He'd broken bones and lost fingernails before, but never one immediately after the other. Once he regained enough of his voice again, he spoke. "D-doesn't m-matter… Th'real Dean w-wouldn't wan' t-to be this."

"Here's the good news." He stepped away from Sam, and began rummaging through the other tools. Sam was relieved for the small break, that is, until Dean turned around wielding a poker, glowing near white hot at the end. "I don't give a damn about that Dean."

Before Sam was given even the slightest chance to protest, the poker was set directly below his eye. The stench of his sweltering flesh was almost able to overcome the pain… Almost. All his senses were on over drive. The smell of his burning skin, plus the sound of his own screams ringing in his head, added to the actual pain itself were turning his brain bipolar.

Dean lazily dragged the poker down Sam's face, seemingly fascinated by the sight of Sam's skin beginning to crackle and blister as it ran down his face, and he finally stopped at his jaw.

Sam had broken out in a sweat. Occasional drops would trickle down his face and work their way into his crackling skin, igniting the fire anew. If he didn't stop yelling soon, his voice might give out right then and there, so he worked on trying to breathe as normally as he possibly could in his current situation.

A fist suddenly swung, nailing him right in the burn, and it cracked the skin open all over again. "Sammy? You still remember what you're gonna tell me?"

All Sam could do was shake his head. There was no way he'd be able to open his mouth without whimpering.

"Oh, you don't remember? Let me refresh your memory." The next words were each punctuated with a fierce punch to Sam's already bleeding face, each one harder than the last. "I. Want. My. Blade."

After the beating stopped, Sam couldn't help but let out a tiny sob as blood trickled past his lips. He felt a hand grab his hair, and force his head up. Dean's ice cold eyes were all he could see.

"You're really starting to get on my nerves, little brother."

"St-stop, Dean… K-know y're strong 'nuff."

Dean stepped back, that eerie grin replaced with a look of realization. "You're right." The smirk came back, but with a whole new level of excitement, and it was terrifying. "I am strong."

Sam suddenly lurched upwards from his chair at the smallest twitch of Dean's hand. The veins in his neck and arms stood out like stray branches on a tree. He could do nothing but seize against his bonds, and there was no way he could hold back the cries. Through the teeth Sam had clenched so tight, he begged. "Pl-please, Dean! S-stop!" The pain was finally cut off, and Sam sagged down as far as he could with his restraints in place.

"Wow, that felt good. How was that for you?" Dean laughed, and God help Sam, because it was the most terrifying sound he'd ever heard. "Sometimes it's just so nice not to get your hands dirty."

The pain came back and lasted longer than before. White-hot agony seared all throughout his body, showing no part of him any mercy. "Pl-please stop! Please!" Sam hated himself for groveling like that, but to hell with dignity if it just stopped this torture.

Dean was back in Sam's face. "You gonna talk yet?"

There was so little humanity, _so little Dean, _in the question that Sam couldn't help but flinch, even as the pain was cut off again. "N-not… t-t'lling you wh're th'blade is…. Y-y'll j'st kill me…"

One quality of Dean's that this demon version of him still had was his cockiness, although Sam found no comfort in it. "You mean you don't just want to end it? And I don't just mean the torture, although that is pretty entertaining."

Sam somehow gathered enough strength to summon a glare, albeit a weak one.

"Be real with me, Sammy, aren't you just tired of it all? The demons, dying, all that bloodshed? What exactly are you living for?"

Sam's eyes turned soft. "F-for you, Dean…" He didn't get a chance to see Dean's reaction as he turned away. Maybe he was finally getting back control. Maybe his Dean could still be in there after all.

The sound of an electric drill whirring dashed all his hopes, when pure terror came careening in. "What have I always told you about chick flick moments?" The bit of the drill rested on Sam's knee. "I hate them."

Sam's breathing picked up in fear unlike any previous times. "W-wait, wait, wait-" His panicked plea was cut short as Dean grabbed his jaw, and help his mouth open.

"If you're not gonna use your mouth to say something important, I really don't see a use for it." The drill whirred on, and made its descent towards Sam's gaping mouth.

His protests were barely coherent due to his mouth being pried open, but that didn't stop him. "Okay, okay, okay!" He panted heavily as Dean released his grip.

Dean still held the drill in his hand, ready and willing to use it again if he didn't get the answer he wanted. "You gonna tell me where the blade is?"

Sam sucked in a pained breath. "I-I'll show you…"

As much as Sam had missed Dean's laugh, the one he heard from him sent shivers down Sam's aching body. "If you really think that's gonna help you live longer, by all means. But just so you know, I'm killing you the second it's back in my hand."

The words frightened Sam, but the plan formulated in his head was all he had. He gave a small nod. "I know."

With a snap of Dean's fingers, the rope holding Sam to the chair broke apart. Not expecting the sudden release Sam tumbled to the ground, catching himself with his hands, forgetting the broken fingers, and yelped at the fresh wave of pain. He felt himself being lifted as Dean, none too gently, yanked him back up by the hair at the back of his head.

Dean's cold voice snapped him away from the pain, knowing more would come if he did not oblige to the command. "Move."

Sam stumbled forward, with Dean so close behind that he could feel Dean's hot breath tickling his neck. Images of a matador cornered by a pissed off bull came to mind. Not that he didn't always find Dean bull-headed, but still…

Besides his brain's weak attempt at a distraction from his panic, his plan worked its way to the top of his head. If it didn't go exactly the right way, Sam knew what his fate would be. Fate really was a bitch wasn't she? And Sam knew it firsthand.

Both brothers made their way into the kitchen, Sam's steps getting weaker and weaker from all the- well, torture. Even in his weakened state, he began to truly realize how idiotic of a hiding place it really was. It was a spur of the moment thing, and hopefully it was so dumb that Dean would never think to look there on his own.

"You have got to be kidding me." Now that actually sounded like Dean. "I swear to God, if you put my blade in the freaking fridge-!"

Well… Sam opened the refrigerator door and pulled out the First Blade. If you were a demon searching for something hidden by one of the best hunter's in the world, would you check there? Didn't think so.

Dean's eyes widened lustfully at the sight of the blade. It was the happiest Sam had seen him in a long time.

As Dean reached out to take it from Sam's hands, Sam jerked down and bit Dean in the arm, drawing sweet, beautiful blood. Sam drunk as greedily as he could for the whole second he had before Dean yanked his arm back. Unfortunately, Dean had maintained his hold on the blade.

"That is IT, you son of a bitch!" Dean charged at Sam, until Sam held out a hand and locked Dean in place. "You wouldn't."

Sam wished that it were true, but his hand curled into a fist, and he twisted it just the slightest bit. The motion was followed by the smallest black puff of smoke being coughed up from Dean's throat. "I don' wan' to do th's, Dean." He stopped pulling the demon, _"Dean. It's not just a demon, it really is Dean." _but kept Dean frozen where he stood.

"Then I guess we're at a stalemate, huh? Tell you what. You let me go, and I'll save ripping your heart out for another day. How's that sound to you?"

Like signing his own death warrant, but what else could Sam do? If he let Dean go, he would be able to spend more time trying to find a way to cure him. He needed that time, because right now all he had were either sending Dean back to hell, _"Wouldn't be the first time Dean went to hell for you." _or killing him. Sam had no way of knowing that Dean would really keep his promise, but it was all he had.

"F-fine… L-leave. Bu'I swear… "S'not over."

An eagerness so very far from his brother was apparent on Dean's face with a dark smirk. "I look forward to it." He gave Sam a clichéd wink, before he vanished. Undoubtedly, he would return.

* * *

I hate to do this to you guys, but this is it for now. I've never written a story with such a non-ending ending, but this is where my brain wanted it to end. This story may or may not have a sequel coming, I kind of like leaving the ending open like this, and I'm also not entirely sure on how exactly I'd wrap it up. I'm currently trying to connect the dots on how the sequel would work if there is gonna be one, so this is it for now. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing! Leave a review if you've got the time. Until next time, carry on my wayward sons!


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